More of a collective than a band, Breton emerged from a group of filmmakers, which goes some way to explain the erratic disposition of their music – that and the fact they’re named after the French father of surrealism, André Breton. Rather than simply taking to instruments, this London-based outfit will record and sample anything from a razed building to keys unlocking a door. The result is a cacophony of noise á la the Fluxus artists and neo-Dada musicians of the ’60s, and would likely only appeal to a select few if it weren’t for the varying vocals that pull it neatly together.

The chants on ‘Jostle’ echo the Mystery Jets, but an agitated Tom Vek-ish baritone fills ‘Ghost Note’, while ‘Electrician’ seizures in Moogy electronics, hand claps and Entrepreneurs-aping singing. The record was written in a disused bank in Kennington, recorded at Sigur Ros’s studio in Reykjavik – including strings and brass by German composer Hauschka – and is a unique effort that’s far from just another synth album.

By D K Goldstein

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